


aurore

by halfaday



Series: whumptober 2019 [2]
Category: SF9 (Band)
Genre: M/M, no whump in there just sweetness, overlook how gr8 the summary is thx, written for whumptober 2019 but soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22558927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfaday/pseuds/halfaday
Summary: This kind of thing takes time, Sanghyuk figures. He’s fine catching glimpses of everything until he’s finally ready to offer the world his hand.
Relationships: Kim Seokwoo | Rowoon/Lee Sanghyuk | Dawon
Series: whumptober 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618456
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	aurore

**Author's Note:**

> stand-alone whumptober drabbles begin now!!
> 
> this prompt is ‘broken voice’ (from the alternative list), but i would like to Insist on the fact that by this prompt i refer to sanghyuk’s inability to talk — his Literal broken voice. nothing else.  
> also!! the signs in this fic are from FSL.

Sunlight seeps through the heavy leaves of the trees around them, reflecting on the water of the stream, giving new colours to the flora and fauna, casting shadows where they are the most unexpected. Sanghyuk watches bugs as they fly here and there, watches the surface of the water then the fish that live in it — they appear orange then red, suddenly turn back, swim to a destination that only they know. It's all too much, in the best way possible: it's beautiful and magical, and Sanghyuk, as he turns and turns, then finally gives up on marveling at everything, cannot stop smiling, charmed by the place.

'It's beautiful,' he signs as he walks towards Seokwoo, encompassing all the nature around them with a single gesture. The ground is soft underneath his feet, welcoming, and, once his shoes have been kicked off, he sits back down on the tablecloth they laid earlier, feels the tissue, the warmth of the world under his fingers.

Seokwoo is dozing off: lying down, eyelids shutting and opening slowly, trying to fight off the sleep overtaking them — but still he smiles, makes eye-contact with Sanghyuk.

'Right,' he mouths.

He points at a tree a few steps away, the birds that are chirping on one of the lower branches. They're red, blue and yellow, vivid colours that none could miss; sing clumsily and a little too loudly, but they're beautiful, and Sanghyuk doesn't mind their songs — it's different from words; sounds a hundred times kinder than what Sanghyuk usually hears.

'Pretty,' Sanghyuk signs. He feels like he's been doing the same sign over and over again, like a child repeating himself as he discovers new and new things on a trip, but he cannot help himself, wants Seokwoo to know every thought of his — in a way, he wants to experience wording his thoughts again, being able to communicate and be understood.

And Seokwoo, kind Seokwoo, lets him; encourages him, even, to say more, to express this and that — it's one of the things Sanghyuk wants to hate about him: how good he is at making him come out of his shell, at showing him he belongs to the world, no matter what.

Seokwoo sits up, points at the birds and waits for Sanghyuk to nod. Then he makes a fist with his hand, his thumb resting against his forefinger — he puts his hand to his mouth, makes an L with his thumb and forefinger, then joins them together a few times, as if it were a beak. He repeats the gesture twice, tilts his head. Silently asking Sanghyuk if he understands, silently inviting him to imitate him if he does. Sanghyuk does: he fumbles with his hand, struggles more than he should to get it in the correct position — but eventually he succeeds, and Seokwoo breaks into a smile as he does, gives him a congratulatory thumbs up.  _ There you go,  _ his entire attitude says,  _ bird. _

Nothing revolutionary, Sanghyuk thinks, but he signs the term again and again, mixes it with signs he's learned recently. Seokwoo watches him, drowsiness suddenly nowhere to be found, replaced by pride and a tinge of amusement. He lies back down, this time on his side, and rests his head on his hand, corrects Sanghyuk when he makes a mistake, interrupts him when he wants to add a few things. He's happy, Sanghyuk can see it in his eyes — and he feels himself being contaminated by the good mood Seokwoo is in, by his large smiles and his excited laughter, joining the birds in their songs and the nature around them in its never-ending life. Seokwoo is enjoying himself, is enjoying this time together — and so is Sanghyuk.

It's many moments before they decide to head home, rising from their impromptu seats and folding, packing everything up. The sun is down in the sky, but it hasn't quite started setting, and Sanghyuk admires the ephemeral colours it gifts to the nature, all the parts of the world he's able to witness. The leaves of the trees nearby taking on shades they refuse to even consider during the day, each and every tree becoming alike as the light reaches to embrace another part of earth — the grass darkening, putting on an ashen coat, while the world down the hills seems to glow, vibrating from afar as each of its details slowly slides under the covers, making way for the moon, the stars, and all of the stories only they are allowed to witness.

The air has gotten chilly, clinging to the pair as if it meant to protect them, and Sanghyuk is rather thrilled when they reach his house. The lights are on, and he can see his brother running around through the window — can almost hear him from where he is, pursued by a father who has now become an evil king, tracked by a tiny princess whose only interest is to tame dragons. This is usually when Sanghyuk intervenes: almighty knight whose scream can defeat a thousand orcs, brave-hearted even when facing dragons — but they haven't quite found him a skill since he lost his voice; and Sanghyuk, for once, is content simply looking at the scene. Being a knight can wait, he thinks as he looks up, and is surprised to meet Seokwoo's gaze, already set on him — knights, too, need a pause from time to time.

He doesn't really know what to say, doesn't know if Seokwoo is expecting a goodbye or a minuscule conversation before they part for the day — he certainly won't find the answer in Seokwoo's eyes, his cheekbones, or his lips; but sometimes, Seokwoo makes it really easy to believe he will. The long locks of hair that fall into his eyes; his smile and the way it lights up his entire face; the colour of his skin under the sun, akin to dunes and dunes that have never been explored, ever-changing during the night, under light-bulbs, candles and the moon; a land and its seasons — his laughter, bright, cheerful, charming; his eyes, and the way they shine when he's excited, when he's trying to share something with Sanghyuk and excitement has him tripping up on his explanations… Getting lost in them is impossibly facile, comes as naturally as the result of 2+2 — is annoyingly tempting, and the thought tugs at Sanghyuk like a stubborn child when he attempts to ignore his mind, when he decides to overlook every flawless little detail that adds up and up to his beauty. If he were to stop and stare at all the things that make Seokwoo attractive, time would never be in his favour — has never been so far, has never let him take everything in. 

He's trying nevertheless, declaring war upon time again when the front door of the house opens, making him a loser for the nth time.

'Sanghyuk!! I need your help!! The king has made me prisoner! If you don't save me I'll die!!!'

Taehyuk tugs on Sanghyuk's hand, looks at him as if he were really in danger —  _ please,  _ he insists loudly,  _ help me. _

It's a little embarrassing to say the least: not that Sanghyuk has been building himself a reputation — he could never, with the one his accident created on its own — but things seem to be different when he's around Seokwoo; and there is a gulf between who he is around him, and the familiarity he has with his family. 

Seokwoo doesn't really seem to notice — or if he does, he doesn't care: he smiles fondly at his brother, greets him when Taehyuk looks up.

'Oh, Seokwoo!' Taehyuk pulls on Sanghyuk's sleeve, so strongly Sanghyuk almost loses his balance. 'If he wants to join, he can be the wizard that rescues us all when the princess sets her dragons loose!'

_ That's not it, _ Sanghyuk really wishes he knew how to sign — but he doesn't, and Seokwoo, noticing Taehyuk's bright eyes, the excitement with which he speaks, turns to him, silently asking him to translate.

_ Yes?  _ the tilt of his head, his smile say, and Sanghyuk really, really wishes he hadn't decided to stand in front of the window like an idiot.

He opens his mouth, closes it, looks around as if the signs he needs and doesn't know were lying around, waiting for him to pick them up. They aren't — he flushes and feels panic settle in his heart, flowing through his veins and reaching his brain.

'I,' he starts to sign, then realises he's wrong, points to Seokwoo instead. Taehyuk pulls on his hand, this time much, much, much more (too) strongly, and the world suddenly spins under his feet, pitches as gravity draws him to the ground — and just as suddenly stills, as a hand catches him by the forearm, pulling him back upright, two feet safely sunk into the ground. It's as fast as lightning, doesn't give Sanghyuk the time to process anything — only allows him to decipher the aftermath: his father, suddenly walking into the picture, gently scolding Taehyuk; Taewon following him, latching onto his thigh to get a glimpse of the situation; Seokwoo, not letting him go, smiling at him when their eyes meet.

'This is too much,' Sanghyuk overhears his father say, weariness evident in his voice, creeping up on him as soon as play time stops. 'Taehyuk, be polite — Seokwoo isn't someone we know well! You have to be respectful.'

'I'm sorry,' Taehyuk says, then signs, sheepish.

The hand holding Sanghyuk deserts his forearm to pat Taehyuk on the head, and Seokwoo beams when the child looks up, wordlessly telling him it's fine. Angelic, Sanghyuk thinks, and the thought gains in strength as Taehyuk goes back to the kitchen, suddenly shy and embarrassed, making Seokwoo laugh loudly.

'It takes time for him,' Sanghyuk's father explains — then he shakes his head, remembering his voice is useless around Seokwoo. He sighs, another kind of fatigue seizing him, this time unavoidable, one that only gets stronger as the years pile up, as old age comes to walk with him — he's trying to figure things out, trying his best to make everyone in the household happy.

It takes him a little time, barely noticeable, but still embarrassing to him — but he overlooks it, ignores it, and taps on Seokwoo's arm, lightly, to get his attention. Points to him then the warm kitchen behind him; mimes eating and drinking, warming up in front of the fire of the living-room. He's gotten better, since Sanghyuk's accident, picking up on little signs and developing a very good sense of miming things — Sanghyuk is sure it would seem stupid to everyone else, but it means a lot to him, shows that he's willing to try and accommodate his vision of the world to what he'd never really thought of, what he'd never considered before.

Seokwoo nods, brings his hand to his forehead, his thumb and first two fingers together —  _ understood. _ Then he shakes his head and dismisses the invitation with a wave of his hand; tapping on an imaginary watch wrapped around his wrist, signing that he has work to do; he has to set up the shop for tomorrow, he explains in half mimes and half signs, and Sanghyuk's father makes an  _ ah, _ signs he's understood.

'That's a pity,' he signs, more to himself than Seokwoo, but Seokwoo catches it nevertheless, shrugs to tell him it's fine. 'I'll let you say goodbye then?'

He mimes his sentence awkwardly, pointing here and there and waving his hand, but Seokwoo gets it, nods and bids him good night; bows to thank him for his politeness. Angelic, Sanghyuk thinks once again, but this time he doesn't have the time to get lost in his thoughts — Seokwoo turns to him as the front door closes, temporarily leaving the both of them alone, allowing them one last conversation before the day ends.

Sanghyuk is back to square one: doesn't know what to say or do, knows the answer isn't written in Seokwoo's features but stares at them nevertheless, clueless and hopeless. Seokwoo has work to do, is probably eager to be on his way — logically Sanghyuk should only have to wish him a good night, shouldn't have to rack his brain about an upcoming conversation.

But coming up with a greeting seems harder to do when it's only the two of them and time is ticking by, slithering between them and urging them on, whispering words of hurry and tugging on their hands, sending them on different ways. Time never slows down, wants them to be aware of every moment — renders the rehearsed greetings wishing good days and nights too painfully obvious, saps them of their meaning to leave them as words, signs, awkward smiles that do not quite know how to shine, fleeting glances that fear meeting and staring. Sanghyuk enjoys being with Seokwoo, enjoys his company — they have reached a point where they can tease each other; the gentle step of blooming friendship, during which laughter leads the way, and small secrets, reserved confessions, slip in during instants that only belong to them, that would simply not exist to any outsider — and yet bidding goodbye is awkward, rings fake when it is expressed.

Perhaps this is why, Sanghyuk thinks, perhaps it is because what they have is only blooming. Perhaps if one day they grow to be familiar around each other; if they reach a point where leaving each other is nothing but an event that they know will repeat itself, and that will be followed by another meeting — perhaps then it will be less awkward, perhaps then it will feel less fake. Perhaps time, the enemy that makes them part, is what they need in the end — by their side, rather than one step before them; walking down their threads, rather than trying to untangle what they yearn to become.

But for now, as they are — perhaps it is a necessity to go through these feelings — perhaps it is simply how it goes, and overthinking everything is part of it all.

Sanghyuk fiddles with his hands, scratches his neck before attempting a goodbye, hands unsure as they sign. Seokwoo beams, and mimics him, wishes a good night. So easily, like he knows what to do where Sanghyuk is lost.

'Saturday?' he signs as he's ready to turn away. The light of the kitchen illuminates the left side of his face, casts shadows on the right side — he looks almost surreal like this; eyes only looking at Sanghyuk, eagerly waiting for a reply. Offering a side of friendship Sanghyuk had forgotten about, giving him a piece of his world and sinking it into the puzzle that is the mystery of his own soul. Letting Sanghyuk do the same, and offering to walk a path they've never heard of together.

Angelic.

Sanghyuk signs his okay, makes sure Seokwoo can see how happy he is to meet on Saturday — is delighted to see Seokwoo catching onto it, appreciating it and mirroring him.

And as Seokwoo leaves, as Sanghyuk watches him depart, remaining there a few seconds before entering his house, he catches a glimpse of what could be later in the future — and for the first time in a long, long while, he tastes inner peace, and untrimmed happiness.


End file.
